


watch the ice melt

by minecraftgamernoise



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:34:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29651385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minecraftgamernoise/pseuds/minecraftgamernoise
Summary: Hockey boy Dream, figure skating George. Will they end up as a disaster? Who knows. A boy with practised hockey skills and another with fragile moves on the ice.together they fall <3inspired by @codiicronk 's ice hockey!Dream and figure skating!George
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	watch the ice melt

The rink had been swarming with people that day. Children were wobbling around on hired skates, teens buying hot food for lunch after a skate session with their friends, figure skaters and hockey players trying to find spare ice to practice. It was the busiest Dream had ever seen it, the short spring break clearly making good business for the rink. California seemed to always be swarmed over the short holiday breaks.

The second rink had been reserved for his team hockey practice, his fellow teammates already geared and booted up. The crisp crunching of their blades could be heard echoing through the open space of the rink, and through the hidden corridors, mixed with the muffled shouts and cheers of success from scoring last minute goals. The rink had closed at 6pm to the public, leaving it quiet and empty for the local college ice hockey teams to use for additional ice time. Additionally, local and traveling figure skaters were given permission to use the rinks after closing hours to run through programs and tricks that hadn’t quite sunk in yet.

Dream, however, preferred to make his way to hockey practice an hour early, and admire people of all ages drifting in and out of the rink. You could say people watching was his way of getting to understand the world through his eyes. He felt like he could come to understand a person simply through their body language, eye contact, the motions they made with their hands whilst they talked. He felt more comfortable just being allowed to watch. Never to interfere, never to communicate. Just observe. 

Because of his “people staring” as Tommy liked to refer to it as, Clay was almost always late.

His bag was slung over his right shoulder, heavy with his gloves, elbow pads, knee pads, mouthguard, shin pads, his jersey and his beloved skates, bumping against his thigh as he walked towards the locker room. There was a dull ache in his lower back, his recent shifts of stocking shelves at the local grocery store providing inconvenience for practice. Hockey was something he didn’t have to just observe- he could communicate and interfere. He was allowed to make as much noise as he wanted, he was allowed to play dirty. The cold air and fast speeds pumped adrenaline through his veins and brain and let him feel better about his average life.

It was his escape from the realms of his life. He hated that it was average, normal, indifferent- all he wanted was for something to change.

The locker room was empty. The yells from his friends bounced off the ice, and followed him into the small space; urging him to hurry up and put his gear on. His role was defense; he helped ensure the team worked together and won the match.

With his boots and protective gear eventually on, Clay softly clicked his locker shut. His feet were already aching to meet the ice again. Raking a hand through his warm brown hair, Dream was ready to play dirty.

A familiar voice dragged him back to reality, his friends laughs echoing around the rink.

“Dream, you bastard- you’re finally fucking here!,” Sapnap chuckled, skating over to meet Clay at the barrier of the ice, almost surprised at his appearance to practice.

Leaning against the locker room door frame, Clay met his best friend's gaze and cracked a smile. 

“Of course I’m here dumbass, you think I’d miss practice?” He walked over onto the ice with practiced ease; thick protective gloves wrapped around his hands, holding his hockey stick. The sound of his gliding blades immediately felt reassuring. 

“You’re always late! I won today’s bet on whether you’d show or not. Tommy, Wilbur and Quackity owe me money now because they thought you wouldn’t show.”

“You fuckers!” laughed Dream, annoyed with how well his friends knew him. He smacked Spanap teasingly with his stick as they made their way over to the rest of the group.

His whole team was already on the ice; Wilbur and Eret drilling moves with pucks through cones whilst Sapnap, Ranboo and Quackity practiced shooting goals. Tommy had decided that bullying Tubbo with a hockey stick was better than actually practicing.

Dream smirked. “Everyone up for a proper match?” 

“Hell yeah dude, we’ve been waiting for your dumbass for like- 10 minutes. Let's hurry this shit up and get to work,” replied Sapnap, ready to begin the battle of practice.

“Lets go boys!,” yells Tommy, sliding his protective helmet back over his head, finally ready to stop tormenting Tubbo with his stick. 

“TIME FOR WAR!” 

Dream breathes in the cold air, excitement filling his lungs, ready for the hit of adrenaline. He was always excited for practice.

It was his home. As disgustingly clichéd as that sounded, hockey had come around to brighten his life with new friendships and had given him the ability to really feel excited about a sport.

“Time for war.”

\---

After almost an hour and a half, the group of 8 had managed to flesh out the good bones of a game. Sapnap, Clay, Ranboo and Eret had managed to beat the others 2-0, swiping last minute goals through the defenses of Tommy and Wilbur. Tubbo had been a good goalkeeper, the shots just slipping past his stick. Quackity had proved himself to be a mean centre over the last few months of the teams success, shorter than the others but packed full of fierceness and a determination to win. But, it did not save the opposing team any favours this time.

They had tried, but most importantly, had come to understand what they needed to work on as a team.

The boys never minded being absent from a coach, it meant that with all of their tomfoolery and dumbassery, they would have to get their heads together and actually practice. Or otherwise, they would pay for it in their next game. Even with the age gaps between the 8 of them, they had grown closer than most people of differing ages would normally have.  
Hockey was their meeting ground.

Aching and tired out from the hits of adrenaline, the rest of the boys were ready to go home. Dream didn’t want to leave. The cold air and sharp blades gave him a reason to stay.

If he had been given the option, Clay would just live in the rink. With its crisp air and comforting ice, he had felt always more at home here. He had his friends and the ice and that was all he needed.

Readjusting the heavy practice bag on his shoulder, Dream flicked the lights off in the locker room, watching the rink dissolve into darkness. 

He had expected to be plunged into total darkness, but the soft glow of ceiling lights was still visible from the first rink, the soft thump of a base accompanying the subtle crunch of blades.

Who was here this late? Clay questioned himself, wracking his brain for a suitable answer.. Normally, he was the last person leaving the rink on a Thursday afternoon, before the cleaner took his own leave for the night. He always loved the quietness and emptiness of the rink at night, bringing him a feeling of connection and solidarity. It was his to keep, and usually was his to keep alone.

Walking down the dim and empty corridor, the silhouette of a figure skater emerged from the ice as Dream turned around the corner of the hallway. He was skating a practiced programme, drilling in moves that had not yet cemented in his mind, spinning and jumping and spiralling on the ice.

The figure on the ice was totally unaware of Clay’s presence. He was dressed in comfortable skating gear with his jacket slung over the side barrier of the rink, his face flushed from the air and the continuous practice. His brown hair was mussed, a clear indication that he had been running his hands through it due to frustration or stress.

Adele’s Skyfall repeated itself, the soft beat and loud vocals filling the rink once more. Dream leant against a wall closer to the ice, the shadows keeping him hidden from view. He had never seen a figure skater here at his rink this late before.

Is there a competition coming up? Clay wondered, his mind trying to find a name to a face, someone who had possibly been a frequent at the rink.

He danced on the ice as though his life depended on it. He was spellbinding; his jumps and spins full of raw emotion, edged with an unfound certainty that Dream hadn’t seen before in figure skating.

Clay thought he looked like he would break, like a boy made of glass. He could watch him tell a story on the ice for hours.

Abruptly, the noise of clashing blades brought the skater to his knees, a strangled yelp following his fall. It seemed to Clay as though he had landed rather badly on one of his knees after missing his lutz. The music cut off suddenly, and the rink relapsed into silence. 

Fuck that hurt!” He muttered with anguish, grabbing his knee in pain. 

“That's probably going to bruise,” Dream remarked, breaking the settled silence and startling the skater from his knees on the ice. He was still hidden in the folds of darkness, his voice seemingly absent from a body.

Stepping out of the shadows, Dream’s green hoodie, black sweatpants, dark shoes and warm brown hair was made visible to the boy on the ice. His hockey bag full of gear was still slung over his shoulder, the weight of it urging him to put it down.

Clay made eye contact with the figure skater, his darker brown hair falling over his brown eyes, met with nothing but burning anger inside his eyes. 

“Jesus fuck! I didn’t realise anyone else was here!” He breathed, clearly out of breath from his skating and startled by the sudden company he had acquired whilst practicing his programme routine. His accent was clipped, sounding like the skater had resided in England for a large portion of his life.

“How long have you been here?” Clay asked, waiting for him to explain himself in the abnormal instance he was here.

“Why do you ask?” He questioned as he brought himself upright on the ice, snatching his jacket off the barrier and making his way over to the barrier exit. “How long have you been here?” The shorter boy fired back in a bitter tone, wanting to know why he was being watched. 

“I guess I just haven’t seen you around here before,” Dream spoke. “Normally me and my friends have hockey practice until 7:30pm, and I like staying here after everyone goes home. Makes me want to stay and skate around the empty ice until I get too tired. Do you have a competition or something coming up? Is that why you’re still here? I saw the lights from the other rink when I turned them off, and heard your music. Is that Adele?”

“The California State Games are coming up in 2 weeks and I still haven’t nailed my routine yet.” He spat, stepping off the ice with ease.

“Why so angry? I just wanted to watch. Nice song choice by the way.” Dream smiled softly, walking closer to him and his skates. “Works with your cool ass moves.”

“I don’t appreciate it when people decide to watch me without my fucking permission!” He cried suddenly, boring his eyes into Dream’s blue ones. His voice was stark in the quietness of the ice rink. Angrily snatching up his shoes and untying his skate laces with a practiced speed, he sat down with rage, obviously trying to get ready and leave as soon as possible.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Clay scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. He moved closer to the boy on the bench. “You just looked so… powerful and graceful out there, I didn’t want to startle you with the door when I left. I honestly thought you were going to shatter into a million little pieces on the ground with the way you were skating, I was scared if I made a noise you’d shit yourself or something! The cleaner is normally around here this late but I didn’t want you to think that there was some weird stalker dude around here or something.. so I decided to stay instead.” Dream rambled, anxious as to how the skater might react.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, and I really didn’t mean to make you angry. I really am sorry,” Clay said sheepishly, fiddling with the strap of his bag to avoid the skater's burning stare.

The fire slowly fizzled out of the boy’s brown eyes, Dream slowly walked closer towards him, close enough to stick his hand out to him.

“Sorry for the abrupt scare without introducing myself and sort of scaring the shit out of you. I’m Dream.”

Clay’s hand hung in the air for a few moments before the chestnut haired skater let out a defeated huff and shook his hand.

“What sort of name is Dream? You have no normal name?” He asked, subtle sarcasm and wit edging his words.

“Well my actual name is Clay-”

“Well my actual name is Clay, I’m George Davidson. Pretty well known in the ice skating world. Are you that clueless of who I am? Name not ringing any bells in your small little brain?”

“I had no clue who you were, despite the fact that I thought you were the coolest figure skater I think I’ve ever seen skating here before.”

Dream adjusted the bag on his shoulder, the weight becoming heavier and heavier after the passing moments and waited a few moments for George to pack away his skates.

“Can you hurry up? I’m not gonna walk out of this rink by myself and this fucking bag is killing my back-”

“You’re a dumbass,” George interrupted with a smirk on his face, his stature quite a bit smaller than Clay’s 6’3” build. 

“Wh- How?!” Dream choked out,offended by the sudden accusation.

“Wait until you hear my exercise routine for practice! You'll be crying like a little baby for weeks!" The figure skater yelled as grabbed his bag suddenly and bolted towards the ice rink exit.

“Wait up you little shit!” Dream yelled after him, already intrigued by the sudden switch of moods.

He wanted to know more about whoever this George Davidson was.

Clay thought he was a cool as fuck figure skater.

Beautiful too, not only in the way he moved, but in his brown eyes and dark brown hair and his slim build.

For some reason, Clay couldn’t get him out of his head. That night, he lay in bed, his mind buzzing with curiosity about the boy with the skates and sudden mood shifts

He wanted to be the one to capture his glass heart, watch his glass moves, get closer to the truth of this George Davidson.

How would that happen?

**Author's Note:**

> wattup homies, this is the first proper fic i've posted on here! ive been procrastinating school work to finally get this chapter done, i had wanted to write about it ever since codi posted it on insta. enjoy anyway! lmk if you like the first chapter and feedback would be greatly appreciated! also i feel as though this is kinda short, so let me know if y'all want longer chapters n shit bc i know i like reading longer chaptered works :')


End file.
